5. Kade
Chapter 5
Kade
I forgot how much tequila hangovers suck. My head feels like an explosive ready to blow, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. My sweat even smells like tequila. And women. Fuck. From now on, I’m sticking to beer and whiskey.
I put the pitchfork down against the side of my horse Willy’s stall and look around to make sure nobody, especially one of my family members or Blake, is lurking, then I take out my flask. Hair of the dog should do the trick. The watered-down whiskey makes the eggs I ate this morning threaten to make a reappearance, but it’s the only thing that will make this hangover end more quickly. My body isn’t used to drinking this much after three months without, and it wants me to pay for it with heartburn and a headache.
I remove my ball cap and wipe sweat from my brow before putting it on backward. It’s too damn hot already, the unbearable heatwave only adding to my ornery mood. I start going through the chores I have to do for today and debate if I can grab a dip in the spring later—not only to cool down but also to help clear my mind after last night.
Once Gavin found me and the girl in the back room, he sent her back to the dance floor then proceeded to lecture me about workplace etiquette. Was I an idiot for bringing her back there in the first place? Sure. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it’s not the first time I’ve done it, either. I also wasn’t thinking clearly; I drank more than I’d planned. One minute, I was dancing and having fun for the first time in a long time, then the next, I was being handed tequila shots in memory of my dad. I’d been trying to forget that the anniversary of his death passed last week, but this dang town won’t let me.
Once that first tequila shot hit my stomach, it was game over. After that, I kept being handed them, and I didn’t decline, wanting to erase the grief of losing my dad from my mind for the evening. Erase any feelings whatsoever.
Eventually, the girl ended up putting my cowboy hat on her head, and then I was sneaking her into the back for a little fun. We never ended up fucking, and I left Night Hawk shortly after, hitching a ride home from a local. The girl, while attractive, wasn’t doing much for me. I was happy when we were found. I was finding it hard to get into, just like I had the previous night. It felt empty. Her touch was…just that. Touch.
The only thing interesting about that whole situation was the fact that the new bartender, Presley, was watching. That surprised me. I felt more seeing her blush and look away from me than I had getting attention on the dance floor all night. It made me think of our time in the alley, of the way she looked like she wanted to kiss me when I stood over her.
I grunt, my head pounding at all this thinking.
I decide I need another little drink of whiskey to help me out. Just as I swallow, I hear Blake’s boisterous laughter from down the barn aisle followed by Gavin’s. I slip the flask in my waistband so it’s hidden from sight, not wanting them to see it and start trying to psychoanalyze me—though I’m sure Gavin already has in the last couple of days.
I grab my pitchfork again and go back to mucking just as Blake’s chocolate-brown curls come into view outside of Willy’s stall.
“Kade, you’re here!” She smiles, her warm eyes making contact with mine.
“I’m here,” I say .
She chuckles, Gavin standing at her side with his arms crossed over his chest. I try not to roll my eyes, but it’s damn hard not to when he looks at me like that, as if he’s so much better than me. Like he’s my dad or some shit.
Blake, her gaze flitting warily between us, says, “Heard it was busy at Night Hawk and Jake had to use one of the Corbin boys as a bouncer.”
“Yeah, it was a packed house. I guess people were excited I was back for line dancing.”
“As they should be. You’re the best of the best.”
I tilt the corner of my mouth up. “Thanks. It was fun.”
“I’m glad. Well, I just wanted to check in and make sure you had breakfast. Gavin and I decided to splurge and grab something from The Diner for all of us. He went to ask you if you wanted anything, but you weren’t in your room and your phone was off.”
“Thanks, but I got up early and ate. No need to worry about me.”
Blake’s forehead creases, and I can tell she wants to comment, probably say something about how she’ll always worry about me because she cares about how I feel, especially after saving me that night at Devil’s Rock. But she doesn’t, because Blake understands me in a way my brother doesn’t.
We’ve both experienced grief and extreme trauma, her more so than me after witnessing her younger brother’s tragic death five years ago. More than anyone, except maybe Jake, she doesn’t judge me.
She nods. “Good. I don’t want you to go hungry.” Her phone timer goes off then, and she takes it out of her pocket. “I’ve got a phone call with a potential new hire to help us with some ranch chores in five minutes. But before I go, is everything good with you? I didn’t get a chance to check in after your appointment on Friday. Gavin gave me the bullet points, but I want to hear it from your mouth. ”
I pat my chest and give her the best smile I can muster. “All clear.”
She moves so fast, I hardly have time to react. She steps into the stall, throws her arms around me, and squeezes. I’m still holding the pitchfork awkwardly to the side, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I’m so glad, Kade.”
After a few seconds, my body relaxes. I can’t help but let my guard down a bit with Blake—she cares about me too damn much for her own good. It has my heart squeezing in my chest. That familiar pain in my sternum smarts to the point I want to rub it again like I did at the doctor’s office.
Fuck. I don’t deserve someone like her in my life, someone who cares so much about a screw-up like me. I pull back, my sinuses stinging with unwanted emotion. Her own eyes shine with tears as she shoots me a knowing look.
After clearing her throat, she says, “I’ll leave you boys to it.” She kisses Gavin on the cheek then walks down the barn aisle toward an old tack room we set up as an office for us to use. My brother watches her leave like the fool in love that he is, and I use the moment to collect myself.
I fork a pile of Willy’s shit into the muck bucket and turn my back to Gavin, my attempt at telling him to fuck off. I’m hoping it sends a clear message that I don’t want to talk about what happened last night. But I know my brother, and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It only takes the sound of the office door clicking closed for him to step into the stall with me, shavings crunching beneath his boots.
When he stops directly in front of where I’m working, I have no choice but to look up at him. His arms are still crossed over his chest, biceps bulging. With Blake gone, he has his “big brother mode” turned all the way on, and I know we’re about to get in a fight .
I lock my jaw, hands flexing around my pitchfork. I’ve been avoiding this confrontation since our conversation on the phone after my appointment, but I guess it’s time to face it.
“Can I help you with something, Gav?” I ask after a minute of his staring. He hasn’t said anything—he’s just stood there with that critical gaze he loves so much. And honestly, I’m sick of it. I throw the last of Willy’s shit into the muck bucket then lean on my pitchfork.
“You smell like tequila and one of those perfume stands in the mall,” he finally says.
I chuckle darkly. I expected a comment like this from him. Ever since Dad died, he’s been on my case about being a “playboy,” acting like he didn’t sow his wild oats when he was my age. Like he never came home smelling like tequila and perfume from all the women he two-stepped with and probably fucked.
But what makes his comment even funnier to me is that he believes the reason I wasn’t in my room this morning was because I went home with someone. What he doesn’t know is I slept in the barn loft, not wanting to risk seeing him.
I wipe more sweat off my brow and look him straight in the eye with a half grin on my face, one that says more fuck you than anything else. “You go to malls often, Gav? I thought your boots looked new.”
Gavin grinds his molars then exhales. “Are you okay?”
The question surprises me. I expected him to give me a lecture right out of the gate. That’s been our relationship for the last year. I do something, he lectures. I get pissed, we don’t talk. We make up. Then the process starts again.
Right before and after my accident, our communication was slightly better. We’d come to a sort of understanding that we’d both been working through our grief in different ways. But then, over the last few months, my lack of ability to do anything—to work, to get my anger out, to have any meaningful conversations—has faded. Now, my spiraling dark thoughts gnaw at me like a rat on a scrap of food.
The anniversary of Dad’s passing didn’t help quell those feelings, especially when I kept trying to understand why he left Gavin the Montgomery land instead of me. Why Dad, then subsequently Gavin, didn’t just fucking tell me we were struggling so badly.
The more I think about everything that’s gone down in the last year, the angrier I get. Gavin likes to pretend as if the sorrys we said to each other after my accident were enough, but they weren’t, not by a long shot. I guess I’m just supposed to be okay, move on, build this dude ranch, and act like everything is peachy.
“Kade?” Gavin asks again.
I blow out a harsh breath. “I’m fine.”
His eyes flick down my body, his gaze resting on a thin scar I now have on my right arm from surgery. “You know you can talk to me.”
“Can I really, though?” I ask before I can think about what I’ve said.
Gavin visibly bristles. “What do you mean by that?”
I grab the handle of the trolly the muck bucket is on and start to head out of the stall. Gavin blocks me, and the bubbling rage I’ve tried to tamp down gets the better of me.
“I meant nothing by it,” I bite, my head pounding harder.
Gavin’s nostrils flare. “I know things have been tough for you, especially with the anniversary of Dad’s death, but I thought getting the all clear from the doctor would help. I thought the drinking and the women were in the past. Now, it feels like you’re reverting back to how you were before your injury.”
“I’m fine, Gav. I’m just having some fun.” I think we both know that’s a lie, but I don’t want to talk about how I deal with my feelings right now. Especially when A, I don’t think he really wants to know and B, only his judgment waits on the other side of my truth.
“Kade, please talk to me.”
“I said I’m fine!” I yell.
Silence fills the space before Gavin puts his hand on my shoulder. I tense under his grip. “I miss him, too, Kade. It’s alright to have feelings, despite what shit he left us in.”
While I agree our dad left us in a pile of shit, his statement doesn’t placate me. Gavin had a completely different relationship with him than I did. My big brother was treated more like a son and less like a friend while I was the opposite.
The day I lost my dad was the day I lost everything—not just one of my closest relationships but my future, too. Gavin thinks he understands how it felt to lose him, but he doesn’t. He can’t. And he never will.
“I have work to do.” I push past my brother and make my way to the compost bin. I don’t have to look back to know he’s following me.
“Kade, would you please stop? I just want to talk for a minute. I’m worried about you.”
“Are you?” I yell back, not turning to face him. Because I have to wonder if all his mother henning is out of actual concern or if he’s just trying to make shit less awkward for him, take the burden of his lies off his shoulders.
“Kade!”
I still don’t turn back. There are a few ranch hands around, and they’re observing us as if we’re two gorillas at the zoo getting ready to fight. That’s the last thing I want. I’d rather not have the people we hire thinking we’re a bunch of emotional ticking time bombs ready to go off. That’s not the way to run a business or get respect. At least that’s something Dad taught me.
Gavin puts his hand on my bicep and forces me to turn and look at him. This time, I do pull away from him. “Gav, I said I’m fine.” I keep my voice low so nobody can hear me.
“But—”
“If you’re concerned about my behavior, try to get it through your head that I had one night out after my appointment and fucked a girl to celebrate after three months of sitting on my ass and twiddling my thumbs. Fucking sue me.”
Gavin rubs the back of his neck like he does when he’s upset or nervous. “And what about last night, then?”
“I was having fun.”
“We were at work, Kade. And you made Presley uncomfortable.”
I think back to finding Presley’s blue eyes staring between the shelves after Gavin walked in. The thought has me wanting to tell Gavin that I don’t think she hated what she saw. In fact, I’d say besides looking embarrassed, she didn’t exactly try to stop me and the girl I was with from doing anything. I’m going to guess she watched the whole thing. Which I find interesting.
When I don’t answer Gavin’s question, he sighs. “I don’t want you to move backward, Kade. I love you and—”
“I’m going to stop you,” I spit out quietly. “I said I’m fine. You had fun when you were my age, so don’t act like I’m any different. Now you’re tied down and acting all mature and shit. If you’re jealous, just say that.” The queasiness from earlier comes back at my words. Despite our differences, I love Blake and my brother. And he very much loves her and is happy with his life. But I’m too hungover and pissed off to feel regret over my words. I just want him to get the hell away from me.
“This isn’t you,” Gavin says.
I square my shoulders. “Open your eyes, big brother. Maybe this has always been me but you’ve been blind to it.”
“No—”
“See, Gav, this is the problem. You keep telling me who I am. Maybe you should stop and smell the dying roses.” With that, I walk away, making a point to go greet one of the ranch hands, Art, with a smile on my face and a joke already leaving my mouth .
Art laughs, and the tension in the air breaks. Gavin is burning a hole in the back of my head, but I refuse to look at him. I have work to do, and I don’t want to fight anymore.
“Art, can you finish out the stalls in the back? They just need new shavings.”
“Sure thing,” he says.
I hand him my pitchfork and dump the bucket. With Gavin’s eyes still searing into me like I’m a bug under a microscope, I decide I need a break to cool off from this conversation and nurse my hangover.
“I’ll be back this afternoon to finish up that fence in the south pasture,” I tell Art.
“Need help?”
“Sure. I’ll text you.” With that settled, I head toward the house. I know Gavin won’t follow me because there’s too much work to do.
When we all decided to move forward with Blake’s plans for the Montgomery Family Dude Ranch, it was understood there’d be a ton of work to do to get it off the ground in such a short amount of time. Nine months, to be exact. Three of which have already passed.
I said we needed more time, but I was ignored. Not that I could fight much, anyway. For the first month after the accident, I spent my time in bed on pain meds while Momma fussed over me. Turns out broken bones and a broken heart are a complete bitch to mend.
During the second month, I got more involved, but I still found myself being pushed out. Blake did her best to include me, but since I was going to the city for appointments and tests on my heart, again, I couldn’t do much.
By the start of the third month, I had mostly given up trying. I started physical therapy for my arm and was allowed to take longer walks by my doctor but was banned from lifting anything. Again, not something easy when your life is working the land .
In a last-ditch effort, I tried to help Blake with some paperwork, calling and negotiating with contractors about the updates we needed to the guest house and such, but I’m not meant for sitting on my ass. I prefer physical work, to feel as if I’ve earned putting my feet up at the end of the night, to know that I did good work that day, accomplished something.
Not being able to do that has made me feel worthless. I’m hoping now that I’m able to work again, I will feel less of that.
But it doesn’t feel that way. Especially after my fight with Gavin.
After a few minutes, I approach the house I’ve lived in since the moment I took my first breath in this world. My feet stop, and I take in the peeling white paint of the two-story home with the wraparound porch that needs a fresh sanding and a coat of paint. Dad and I would spend hours out here some nights, unwinding after work. Sometimes Gran, Momma, or Gavin would join us. We’d talk about work, mostly, things that needed to be done, cattle that needed to be sold. Nothing too deep but things that were important to our livelihood.
A yearning fills my chest, one for simpler days when Dad was still alive, when I was more like the carefree boy Gavin so desperately wants me to be again. That thought has more memories of my time on the porch flash through my mind, like the day my dad gave me my first drink of whiskey at fourteen years old. The time I realized that my future was this land, living in Randall—not becoming a horse-reining champion like my kid self once imagined.
An intense feeling of sadness hits me like a mallet, and the hair rises on my arms. Open your eyes, big brother. Maybe this has always been me but you’ve been blind to it.
Those words I spoke to Gavin echo in my mind. I said them for a reason, even if I didn’t mean to say them out loud. Because despite the memories I have of this porch, my home, the nights spent with Dad, I’m not so sure I was ever the carefree and happy boy my family believed me to be. Because I think I’ve always felt this crack inside me. This past year has only spread it wider, the pit below it growing and festering.
I reach for my flask, wanting to feel the sting of whiskey down my throat instead of the burn of the feelings I so desperately have been trying to rid myself of for maybe my entire life. My fingers brush the cool metal just as a blue butterfly flutters by.
The insect stops my action, and I blink. I exhale a breath through my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rein myself in. Rein my thoughts in. It’s too early to get drunk, and even if Gavin thinks I’m like our dad, I can handle my shit without getting buzzed by noon. Or at least, I think I can. I stopped myself from drinking before. I was sober for three months.
I adjust my hat, running up the few steps to the front door and flinging it open. I’m going to grab a few things then take that dip in the spring. I need to get off this property for a bit and clear my head—hopefully press the restart button on this day.
Yep, that’s what I’m going to do.